The Indomitable
by expletive deleted
Summary: Yamamoto and Lal Mirch learn they can get along a little better, because at times even Lal has to stop kicking a kicked puppy. Set during chapter 155.


**Warnings:** blood & injuries; not graphically described, but very much there.

**Note:** This fic was written for a pairing challenge, but it ended up ... pretty platonic. Oops. There's still a hint of romantic potential? If you want to see it. This is set right after Yamamoto and Gokudera's fight with Gamma.

* * *

"Hi, Lal Mirch! Nice to see you again!"

Lal Mirch paused by the door of the sickroom in surprise, and then walked over and put a hand on Yamamoto's forehead. "You don't feel feverish. It's probably a concussion..."

"I mean it, I'm glad to see you." Yamamoto's grin widened. "Since I'm in this shape, you can't hit me right now!"

"If you're so happy about that, then I'm going to assume that the painkillers are working properly."

Yamamoto blinked a few times in vapid surprise and then laughed, regaining enough self-awareness to look embarrassed. "Y-yeah. Sorry if I say anything weird."

She nodded acknowledgment as she put on a pair of latex gloves, and then pulled the blanket off him. It was careful work, because Kusakabe hadn't had had much time to bandage him before going to treat Gokudera, and blood stuck the blanket to the wounds that were still open. Lal Mirch glanced at his face and then tilted Yamamoto's chin so that his gaze was redirected to the ceiling. "It's best not to look. All you need to know is that it seems like you'll be fine, even if it takes some time."

"Good! Good." Yamamoto's grin was enormous and fixed.

Lal Mirch examined him with practiced eyes and hands, but it took her a few seconds to realise why he held his body so stiffly when he didn't seem to be feeling much pain. "Gokudera's fine too. Same for Sasagawa."

His tension snapped like an elastic band, leaving his body to sag so heavily that the bed creaked. Yamamoto's grin widened and curved back and down, pulling his lips thin over his teeth in a grimace that made it look like he was in the worst pain in the world. Such relief.

He began to curl up, wincing and whimpering as he ignored the pain that had to be spiking through the medicine, turning his face away from her to hide his emotion.

"If you're well enough to act this stupid, I will hit you."

Yamamoto glanced over his shoulder. Then he cautiously uncurled, and lay quite still aside from blinking fast. When she turned to get what she needed from the medicine cabinets, he said, "You're sure? About the others? I know I'm just a kid, but I have to know the truth."

"You're not a kid. You're a soldier. You fought as well as could be expected, and you've survived in good shape." Not physically, but he would heal; it was more telling that he could keep his voice steady and that his hysteria had lasted only minutes. "It wouldn't do our war any good to lie to you."

Now Yamamoto's bleary eyes rested on her as she worked instead of the ceiling, but she let him be. She'd take the aggravation of being stared at if it kept him from looking at his wounds.

"Did you and Tsuna get into a fight?" Yamamoto asked.

"No. Sawada's outside with Reborn, waiting for Kusakabe and me to report back about you and Gokudera."

"So someone's taking care of Gokudera? Okay." His smile was genuine this time. "How about you?"

"Fine."

"But that ... on your face ... is it worse?"

Lal Mirch's hand flew to her scar. She looked frantically around the room for a mirror, and ran into the tiny en suite bathroom. There was a mirror by the basin. She held her hair away from her face and stared at the scar - for far too long, she realised, and got a hold of herself and went back to Yamamoto.

"It's the same as it was before," she said bitterly, and took a moment to calm herself before she returned to treating him. Yamamoto's vision was still blurry from medication, pain, and adrenaline. His leftover worries needed somewhere to go, after how tense he'd been about his comrades.

"Okay. Good." Yamamoto laughed softly in what seemed to be sheer relief, until she unwrapped the bandages on a cut that, judging by the amount of blood soaking the bandage, needed stitching.

"I said, don't look," she said as she brought the needle to his skin.

"Yes, ma'am."

It had been a while since she'd heard anyone say something like that. No, not a while - it had been years and years, too many, wasted where she had never meant to be because of the curse. The use of the phrase seemed to be deliberate, because Yamamoto said musingly, "Do you think I'd be a good soldier? In a real army, I mean, not like this."

Quite possibly, if only for the potential of his strength. "Shut up. I don't want to be distracted while I'm doing this."

"Okay, okay." Yamamoto fell quiet for a while. Then she noticed that he seemed to laugh every time he got hurt. She was deliberately rough in unwrapping one wound, and there it was again: "Haha, ow!"

Lal Mirch sighed, wiped hair out of her eyes and asked, "Why is this funny?"

"I'm just glad. You said I'm going to be okay, and everyone else is here and still all right. It hurts but - at least I'm here to hurt. And get better." He gave a wincing sort of grin. "Sorry. I think the painkillers have a lot to do with this."

Lal Mirch shrugged. "It's not that weird. I've seen some people get like this after getting through an ordeal."

"Oh?" The quality of the interest in his voice made her look up. Yamamoto's gaze was urgent. "Are you going to train us again?"

She tucked her chin down to hide the upwards curve of the corner of her mouth. "Are you worried?" How flattering. "You won't be in any shape for training for a while yet, so don't be."

"No," Yamamoto said. "We ... well, we got beat pretty badly. Obviously." He smiled, but he didn't mean this one and it faded quickly. "But you know a lot about this kind of thing. You're going to show us the way, right? And we're going to get stronger."

Lal turned to his face. She concentrated on the corners of his mouth and on hers, putting disinfectant on a cut by his mouth as she emphatically did not smile. He didn't need to get any ideas that this was going to be easy, no matter how catching his attitude was. "Of course you're going to get trained again. It will take time until you've recovered enough for that, however."

He frowned, and she glared at him for moving his mouth. There were a few seconds of peace, and then she moved on to patch up the rest of his face. "Sorry about moving just now," he said, and he had a hint of pout around in his mouth like the boy he was. "It's just that I hate losing."

She made an acknowledging noise, and then stepped back and regarded him. That looked fine. "About two or three weeks and you'll be back on your feet."

"That long?" Yamamoto's face flooded with dismay.

"You're lucky. It could have been much worse."

He looked stricken, and then slowly nodded. Lal stood and studied him for a second more, and found herself taking a dislike to the expression on his face. She preferred the laughing, even if it was idiotic. There was something compelling about the hope in it.

"I'll give you exercises you can do in bed to help you get back in shape before then. But for the first three days, absolute rest."

"Thanks!" His smile was blinding bright.

Lal Mirch tucked her chin down again, too pleased at doing such a small thing. She turned to the linen cupboard in the corner. "Your sheets need changing. I'll let the others know they can come in after that."

She let him get perspective about what kind of shape he was in as they stripped the bloody sheets and blankets off the bed; both the mess of the bedclothes and the fact that his body was too heavy and stiff to get up and stand by the bed brought grimness to his expression. But over and above that, he looked determined.

"Looking forward to seeing you again," Yamamoto called out as she turned to go, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him smiling again and looking absolutely sincere.

"Yes," Lal said in a tone of offhand acknowledgment, and walked out.

"You're looking forward to it too?" Yamamoto said to her back, sounding delighted.

Lal felt a faint surge of irritation as she opened the door, because he was right and she didn't like that he'd picked up on it. "He's all yours," she told Reborn and Tsuna, who hopped off their chairs and dashed past her.

"Tsuna! Kid!" Yamamoto's voice resounded happily down the hallway, and Lal couldn't help listening. "Don't worry about me looking like this, okay?" It was almost addictive, the sound of that hope in that broken body. She could already imagine him steady on his feet, looking at her with eager eyes as his ring lit with clear blue flames. "We've already got a plan to get me in shape!"


End file.
